


By Any Other Name (would smell as sweet)

by MK_Yujji



Category: Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Immortal Gwen Cooper, Immortal Ianto Jones, M/M, post-coe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK_Yujji/pseuds/MK_Yujji
Summary: Two years isn't nearly long enough to get over the loss of Ianto Jones, but sometimes the universe can be as kind as it is cruel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Torchwood/Highlander crossover. If you're unfamiliar with Highlander, this is what you need to know:  
> Immortals are a race that live among mortals.  
> They're embroiled in this thing they call The Game.  
> The two spoken rules to this thing are that 1. there's no fighting on Holy Ground and that 2. in the end, there can be only one.  
> Unspoken rules include such caveats as "don't involve the mortals" and "challenges are one on one". As these unspoken rules aren't self-enforcing, 'bad' guys have been known to cheat. Other immortals tend to take exception to that, though, and the cheater will frequently find themselves hunted down for it.  
> Older immortals tend to take younger immortals under their wings in a Student/Teacher relationship wherein they teach them the ins and outs of surviving the Game, sword fighting, and keeping a low profile.  
> Duncan MacLeod sucks at keeping a low profile in anything though he's slightly better than say... Jack Harkness.  
> Methos is the oldest known immortal at over 5000 years old (he claims that everything is 'fuzzy' before that and he can't remember exactly how old he actually is) and has worked hard to make the rest of the immortal world believe that he's just a myth. Hanging out with Duncan MacLeod has undermined that work quite a bit, imo.  
> (I've added images of Duncan, Methos, and Amanda in the end notes!)

It isn’t the first time that Jack has been kidnapped. It’s not even the first time that someone has killed him to accomplish that goal. Usually, though, he has a pretty good idea of the _why_ even if it’s just hostile aliens trying to take over the Earth again.

When Jack comes to chained up in the middle of a nondescript, worn down warehouse with a strange man staring at him intently from a few feet away, he’s clueless. He hasn’t been back on Earth long enough for any of his enemies to catch up with him. Even he can't make new ones quite so quickly.

“I wonder what’s so special about you,” the man asks, voice rough. His accent is vaguely familiar, but nothing that Jack can actually pinpoint. He’s moderately attractive despite a scar down one side of his jaw and throat. His simple clothes are standard casual for Earth in the 21rst century as is the glock tucked away in the shoulder holster. The sword is wildly out of place, though. Jack has to check the man’s wrist just to make sure there isn’t a familiar vortex manipulator settled there.

“Lots of things,” Jack replies, wondering if this is the kind of bad guy that can be talked into letting this go. Whatever _this_ is. His libido still hasn’t recovered from his last great loss, but it’s just sex. He probably won’t have to fake much. “I do this thing with my tongue, see? Rave reviews every single time.”

The man only rolls his eyes. “If Arawn were so easily swayed with simple sex, this would have ended centuries ago. No. Perhaps you’ve bespelled him.”

“I’m quite bespelling. Or is it bewitching? I can never remember. Both?” It’s a half-hearted attempt at innuendo, though. He’s lived a long life filled with false names and the Doctor is the only person in it that has centuries to give. Arawn isn’t on the small list of aliases that he’s ever heard of the Doctor using before, but what he doesn’t know about the Time Lord could probably fill The Library. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about and we’ll see if we can’t work something out?”

“This is about me paying Arawn back for this little souvenir,” the man replies, dragging a finger along the scar. “He should have just taken my head. I suppose he thought it was a lesson. Perhaps it was, though not the one he intended it to be.”

“Look, I’m as much into bondage as the next guy.” It’s a blatant lie, of course. A year in chains as the Master’s favorite plaything cured him of that particular kink. “But I’m pretty sure this is a case of mistaken identity. I don’t know any Arawn’s. Or Aarons or Arwen’s or anything else remotely close. I did meet an Alonso once, but I get the feeling that’s not quite right. So why don’t you just let me go and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

The look that gets him is mocking pity. “So he didn’t trust you with the truth, after all? I’d say I was surprised, but that would be a lie. He’s a bit of a cold fish, our Arawn is. I believe you knew him as Ianto Jones.”

Memory hits Jack like a punch in the chest and he can’t breath for a moment. Jack has lost a lot of people over the centuries of his life and he mourns each and every one. None of those other losses have ever hit him as hard and viciously as losing Ianto had. It’s been two years, two months, and five days since Ianto died in his arms, gasping out words of love that Jack hadn't managed to reciprocate aloud. 

Not that he’s been counting.

“Ianto Jones is dead.” His voice is harsh and any idea of seducing his way out of the situation is gone. He wants nothing more than to strangle this man with his bare hands for hitting him with those memories all over again.

The man chuckles and nods in agreement. “He is, isn’t he? It’s not the fastest end to an alias I’ve ever seen, but for Arawn that was amazingly careless. Which is how I know that I’ve finally found a weakness that I can exploit. Rushing into such an obvious trap? That’s not really his style. He’d only have done that if you’d managed to chip your way past all that ice. If you’d made him care more about keeping you safe than protecting himself. Which is no easy feat, believe you me. So congratulations on that one.”

“If you’re trying to bore him to death, I promise it’s not as easy as that, Mikel.”

Jack startles at the beloved, much missed voice that echoes through the warehouse. “Ianto…”

In front of him, the man smiles a shark’s smile, not surprised in the least. “Did you ever consider telling him the truth?”

Mikel swings around, peering into the dark corner of the warehouse like he can see something that Jack can’t. 

“Not really your business, is it?” Ianto walks into the light looking just as he had the day he’d died in Jack’s arms. “You all right, Jack?”

“Ianto.” It feels like he can’t say anything else. 

Ianto spares him a long look, taking him in from head to toe before focusing on Mikel again. “You knew where I was. It's not like I've been hiding away somewhere remote. There was no need to involve outsiders in this.”

“It’s more fun this way, don’t you think, Arawn?” 

They stare at each other over the expanse of the ware house floor. Ianto looks as calm as he ever had serving coffee around the hub, loose limbed and confident in a way that Jack wants to explore as soon as he gets the chains off. Conversely, Mikel starts to look twitchy and nervous as the stare off continues. 

“You shouldn’t have involved mortals in our business, Mikel. It pisses people off.”

“He’s no more mortal than we are,” Mikel replies, shifting his grip and smacking Jack’s leg with his sword. 

“He’s still not one of us.” Ianto shrugs. “Besides, I wasn’t referring to him.”

Three more figures come out of the shadows. One is right behind Ianto, but the other two are up on a catwalk above them. 

Mikel swallows hard and Jack can see the sweat at his temples. “How did you know?”

“I feel like the saying about old dogs and new tricks applies here,” Ianto says. “You’ve developed a bit of a reputation over the years. MacLeod won’t ever be my biggest fan, but he takes great offense to bringing mortals with guns to what should be a straightforward challenge. And I’m pretty sure you killed a few of his friends along the way. What do you say, MacLeod? You want first crack at him?”

The man that’s come to stand beside him holds out a katana. Some part of Jack’s brain that’s hardwired to notice makes a note of the classically handsome features and the Scottish brogue that’s almost as delicious as Ianto’s Welsh vowels, but honestly, Jack is still mostly focused on Ianto. “That might actually be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Well, you’ve kept Methos alive this long. That’s worth something.”

“My challenge is to Arawn!” Mikel fairly screams. “No one else may interfere!”

Ianto smirks and steps forward, pulling a sword from a sheath at his back. “I’d be offended that you apparently think that I’m the lesser threat, but really, I’ve wanted to rectify this particular mistake for far too long to quibble about it.”

“Jack.” 

He startles again at the soft voice to his side and fairly goggles at Gwen who’s appeared out of nowhere beside him. He hadn't even decided whether or not to let her know that he was back before he'd been kidnapped. “Gwen, what the hell is going on?”

Gwen makes a face and holds up a pair of bolt cutters. “My job is to get you free and out of the way of the fight.”

“Is Ianto really-“

She gives him a small smile. “It’s a long story, Jack. There’ll be time for explanations when the challenge is over.”

“Is he-“

“He’ll be fine. Mikel is no match in a fair fight, really. He’s just too stupid to realize it.” She cuts through the chain as close to the cuffs as possible without hurting him. “Come on, we’ve got to move.”

“We can’t just-”

“Jack! We can’t interfere. It’s against the rules. And even if I was willing to ignore that, all it would do is piss Arawn off.”

It’s irritating the way that she never lets him finish a sentence, but honestly, he’s too distracted to argue about it much. 

Jack has seen sword fights before, but nothing like this. Both fighters are skilled, their swords more like extensions of their very selves than weapons separate from their bodies. Ianto moves with a deadly skill and the kind of confidence that had only ever been hinted at in the Hub. It’s beautiful to watch. He’s so distracted by the grace and beauty of it all that it takes a second for him to realize that Ianto is toying with Mikel. 

“Is he-“ This time it’s not Gwen that interrupts him.

The strangers who’d come with Ianto materialize near his elbow and one the men makes a disapproving clucking of a sound. “He’s annoyed that Mikel drug you into this. And he’s showing off a bit. He should know better. That’s how people lose their heads.”

“He’s fine, Methos,” the woman says, clearly enjoying the show. She’s beautiful in a way that models would envy with a feline grace that says she always lands on her feet. Her bleached hair is slicked back from her face and every touch of make-up is perfect. In another life, Jack might have made a fool of himself for a chance with her. “Arawn has more challenges under his belt than the four of us combined.” She tilts her head and seems to reconsider. “Well, maybe not if we include Duncan.”

“The only assured victory is the fight you avoid,” Methos replies, frowning. He has the kind of profile that wouldn’t be out of place on an old Roman coin. The over-sized sweater adds to youthful features, but his eyes give him away. He’s been in the trenches and seen things that people weren’t meant to see. Jack’s seen those kinds of eyes before in the Doctor and in the mirror when he bothers with one. 

And in Ianto Jones, on occasion.

“Says the man who hides behind myth rather than fight.”

“Leave him alone, Amanda,” MacLeod cuts in. He sounds like someone who’s used to being the voice of reason between the other two. “He’s allowed to be concerned. Both for his own head and Arawn’s. They’ve been friends longer than we have.”

“I’m still not used to the idea that Methos has friends that aren’t you.”

“Ha bloody ha.” 

Amanda just makes a taunting face at him before waving Jack closer and producing a set of lock picks with a flourish. “Those can’t be comfortable, darling.”

She makes short work of the cuffs that Gwen had left on his wrists, beaming as she tucks the picks away and twirls the cuffs off into the shadows. No one looks particularly surprised at her skill set, though Gwen mutters something catty about show offs.

Jack doesn’t even realize he’s paying more attention to the people around him than he is to the fight until there’s a grunt of pain and Mikel makes a triumphant sound. Then he’s being held back by four sets of hands. “Let me go!”

“Jack,” Gwen says, both arms around his waist pulling with surprising strength. “Jack, he’s fine. I promise, he’s fine!”

Before he can argue the point, Ianto does something too fast for Jack to really comprehend and Mikel is suddenly on his knees missing a sword and a sword hand. Ianto stands over him, a severe look on his face. “I’m not going to repeat a ridiculous rule that I don’t even believe in, but you earned this end the moment you started using others to take power that wasn’t yours to take.”

The final blow takes Mikel’s head clean off and Jack can only gape. Decapitation isn’t nearly as easy as it looks in movies. He can’t even fathom the kind of strength, control, and precision it takes to make it look so smoothly done. Ianto takes a knee beside the body and bows his head over his sword hilt like he’s praying to the gods of olden times. Perhaps he is.

“Back up,” Gwen urges, dragging an unresisting Jack back a few steps. 

Lightening begins to creep away from the body and travel across the floor of the warehouse. It crawls up the walls and sparks off the chains and machinery that litter the space. Windows burst out. No one around Jack moves, they simply watch the process as if it’s expected and mundane. No one seems remotely concerned when the lightening turns itself on Ianto.

Gwen’s arms tighten when Jack tenses, but neither of them move. Jack doesn’t have a damned clue about what’s going on, but if the Time Agency was good for nothing else, it was good for teaching them now to take their social cues from those around them to help them blend in. If these people - these friends of Ianto’s - aren’t concerned, if Gwen isn’t concerned, then there isn’t anything to be concerned about.

It seems to go on forever, but eventually the light show ends and Ianto slumps against his sword. Gwen’s arms loosen their grip and Jack doesn’t wait for more invitation than that. He rushes across the floor. 

“Ianto.”

The man in question watches him warily but doesn’t make any move away when Jack is just suddenly there, throwing arms around him. “Jack.”

“I know this is supposed to be the part where I rave like a jilted boyfriend because you let me think you were dead for over two years, but you’re alive and I don’t even care how or why just that you are.” The body against his seems to relax a little at that and an arm finally comes up to return his embrace.

“It’d be hypocritical of you,” Ianto murmurs against his hair and Jack laughs a little, giddy with relief and the knowledge that for once in his life, something he lost has been returned. 

Jack pulls back suddenly to trap Ianto’s face between his hands. “I love you. I am so sorry that I never said it before, but I really, really do.”

Blinking a little, Ianto seems a little loss for words for a moment. Then his entire expression softens. “Wanker.”

“This is all very touching,” McCleod cuts in from behind them. “But a call has gone out to the local constabulary about the Quickening. We should all probably be elsewhere when they arrive.”

“I do miss being able to wave around a Torchwood badge and make them all go away,” Gwen says, sighing a bit wistfully.

“It did make life a bit easier.” Ianto quirks a smile as he pulls away from Jack and stands up to shake McCloud’s hand and kiss Amanda on the cheek. “Thank you all for your assistance. I owe you.”

Methos gets an actual hug and an exchange of words in a language that Jack doesn’t even recognize, much less understand. The man nods towards Jack and Ianto shrugs with an uncomfortable expression and another, more hesitant reply. Methos rolls his eyes and reaches past Ianto to shake Jack’s hand. “Try not to get kidnapped again, yeah? He’s a bear to deal with when he’s worried.”

“Methos!”

“What? You are. Come on, love,” Methos says to Gwen, ignoring Ianto’s aggravation as he offers her an elbow. “I haven’t been to Cardiff in ages and these two need to sort themselves out. Show us the cheapest pub you know.”

Though Gwen looks a little hesitant to leave them, she eventually lets the others pull her away. Even as they’re leaving, Jack can hear an argument start up about what’s the most important characteristic in a pub - good food, good beer, or good music. 

Ianto tucks his hands in his pockets and Jack finally lets his eyes really drink in the sight of him in jeans and a comfortable t-shirt. There’s bloody patches on the shirt, but only one spot looks like there’s an actual slice to go with it. Jack pushes up the hem to see how badly Ianto is hurt. He gets a glimpse of smooth, pale, unmarked skin before Ianto is pushing his hands away. “Jack, I’m fine and we will talk about it, but Mac wasn’t wrong. We really do need to go. As amusing as it would be to see Andy Davidson’s face when he encounters someone he knows to be dead, I really can’t deal with the headache of it right now.”

So Jack lets himself be guided out of the warehouse and into the night air. They’re well away before he really takes a deep breath and lets himself remember how much he’s missed Earth and Cardiff and this man walking beside him. He isn’t even sure he can think about what’s just happened.

He needs to, though. He can understand secrets, but he also knows when there’s a time to move past them. They’ve reached that point if there’s going to be any chance of the two of them moving forward together.

“You’re like me?” It isn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy, but there’s still a part of him that thrills at the idea. The years and the constant sense of loss has worn on him in ways he’d never anticipated when he’d first realized he might be facing eternity. Even if Ianto doesn’t want anything to do with him after today, it helps a little to know that someone he loves will still be out there somewhere in the universe. 

Ianto shakes his head. “No. I was born like this. We all were. There’s an entire race of us. And while we can be exceptionally long lived, we _can_ die, as you’ve just seen. What you are… I don’t know what it is, but it’s something different.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack dares to reach out. He needs to touch, needs to know that Ianto is real and not just his grief finally overwhelming his mind. Something in his chest relaxes when Ianto just slides their fingers together, easy as breathing. “I don’t even know what to ask.”

“Jack Harkness, at a loss for words. Now I’ve seen everything.” Ianto’s voice is fond, teasing. 

Jack huffs and tries to order his thoughts. The most important question he could have is answered by Ianto’s mere presence. Anything else is just details. “Arawn?”

“Well, it’s really not wise to maintain the same name for very long. I’ve never figured out how MacLeod manages it. Certainly no other immortal even tries.” Ianto sighs and looks up at the sky as they meander down the familiar sidewalks of Cardiff. This was Jack’s home for over three quarters of his life. He wouldn’t have thought he’d miss it as much as he has. “Arawn is the name I was given as a child, but I’ve had many over the years. I use Jones as a surname because it’s easy to remember and blends into the background well.”

“How old are you?”

A secret smile curls Ianto’s lips. “Old enough for our relationship to qualify as extreme cradle robbing. Of those you met tonight, MacLeod is the baby, only being four hundred and twenty.” 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Jack isn’t going to ask, isn’t even sure that he wants to know, but it slips out before he can stop it. It settles in between them, heavy and serious the way the rest of the conversation hasn’t been.

Ianto sighs. “I almost did once.”

“What happened?”

“You left.” There’s no censure in Ianto’s voice. 

“Ianto…” Jack trails off, not sure what justification he can make for everything that had happened. 

But Ianto just shakes his head. “I understand why you left, Jack, even if I don’t necessarily approve of the way you went about it. But it certainly underscored the reality of my place in your life and that place wasn’t one that allowed for those kinds of secrets. Instead, I gave you the rest of Ianto Jones’ life. It was shorter than I’d hoped, but it was yours.”

The words are discouraging, but Ianto still hasn’t let go of his hand. 

Jack doesn’t know anything about the life Ianto has been living since Thames House or even what name he’s using now that Ianto Jones is 'dead'. He doesn’t know if Ianto has moved on or if he still loves Jack at all. Getting his hopes up has always been his biggest weakness, though. 

He pauses, only a little surprised to realize they’ve managed to wander all the way down to the Plass. It’s been rebuilt since he left and he wonders if that includes the Hub or if the place he’d made his home for decades is now just a block of cement. 

It’s just a passing thought, though. He tugs Ianto a little closer so that he can rest his free hand on Ianto’s waist. “Any chance I might be able to be part of _this_ life?”

“I can’t do what I did before, Jack. I can’t just… be your temporary comfort without asking for anything for myself. It only worked as well as it did because I really was a mess after Canary Wharf. And it wasn’t really working all that well.”

Jack knows that he’d spent so much effort for so long trying to keep himself from getting attached that he hadn’t really considered the damage he was doing to the people around him. He’d tried to make up for it after he’d returned from the Doctor and the Master, but losing Tosh and Owen had hit him in the places he was most fragile. After, it had seemed like one desperate scramble after another with no chance to catch their breath, never mind deal with their relationship like proper adults.

“I don’t want that either,” Jack says, easing Ianto into a full embrace. “I’ve had two years to beat myself up over everything I did wrong with Ianto Jones. I know I’m not always the brightest star in the sky, but I like to think that I _can_ learn from my mistakes." He takes a deep breath and rests his forehead against Ianto's. "I can’t… I can’t lose you again. Even if we’re not, you know, _together_ together… Anything. Lovers, friends, penpals… I’ll take whatever you’re willing to offer.”

Ianto sighs and relaxes against him. “If I were a smarter man, I’d have let MacLeod deal with Mikel and left the clean break. But I suppose I’ve never been very smart about you.”

The silence stretches between them for a long minute as they simply lean against each other, breathing each other in. Jack can’t say he isn’t enjoying it, but he has to be sure. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, that’s a yes. You know very well that it’s always been a-” Jack breaks off Ianto’s exasperated reply with a kiss. 

It’s better than he remembers, kissing Ianto. Something that had been missing slots neatly back into place and Jack knows that he’ll do everything in his power to make sure he doesn’t lose Ianto again. This is exactly where he’s meant to be.

Which doesn’t stop a flittering thought from making him pull back for a moment. “Wait a second… Is Gwen-?”

“Really, Jack?” Ianto’s frown is annoyed, but not terribly surprised. “You’re going to ask me about Gwen right now?”

“Sorry, I just… Your friends seemed to know her, but the idea of Gwen being immortal is kind of terrifying and it just smacked me in the face all of a sudden.”

That gets him another sigh and an eye roll. “Yes, she’s immortal. Yes, it’s terrifying and aggravating and occasionally pleasant. Now. If you’re serious about this, then I’m making a new rule. You’re not allowed to mention Gwen in any form or fashion while we’re having a moment. Ever. Or anyone else, either. Our moments are our own.”

“That’s fair,” Jack replies with a grin. Then he drops his head to look at Ianto through his lashes. “But you’ll still have me, right?”

“We’ve all our burdens to bear. I suppose you’re lack of tact is mine.”

Even though he’s being insulted, it’s still a yes, it's still Ianto Jones alive and back in his life. And that’s really all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> I have _several_ immortal!Ianto fics and I keep his backstory as Arawn basically the same. The changes to each universe don't happen until he ends up in Torchwood.
> 
> Basically, I've pulled elements from such myths as the Wild Hunt, Cŵn Annwn, Gwyn ap Nudd, Herne the Hunter, and a few other things to pull together an immortal that's been hanging around the greater Welsh region long enough to become part of the local oral mythology. Yes, that makes Ianto very, very old. Not as old as Methos, but it puts him over 4,000 years old and would make him the second oldest immortal. 
> 
> For this one, Gwen is also immortal and her backstory starts with her first death as Helena, the singer that is killed in the first episode of Merlin(bbc). Arawn was her teacher.
> 
> Images for the others!  
> [Duncan MacLeod](http://www.johnbierly.com/wp-content/uploads/263805.jpg) (trying to find a pic of him with the sword that wasn't horribly blurry was difficult)  
> [Methos](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/highlander/images/c/c7/Methosbar.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20100529141740)   
> [Amanda Darieux](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e6/6f/39/e66f397c04c151b4acf335255eced41f.jpg)  
> Mikel is of my own creation, but if I were casting him, he'd probably be played by a Franco brother. ^_^;;;


End file.
